


My Mother Can't Be This Complexed!

by Big_Diesel



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: Caught, Comedy, Coming of Age, Cosplay, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dark Comedy, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Femdom, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Incest, Masturbation, Mother-Son Relationship, Mutual Masturbation, Parent-Child Relationship, Parent/Child Incest, Porn, Porn Watching, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Humor, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-22 21:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13175370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Big_Diesel/pseuds/Big_Diesel
Summary: Inspired by The Anthology of the Loud House/Random Moments series comes a new series about the love between a mother and a son. This series chronicles Lincoln and Rita as they tackle the comedic/romantic side of their life and the misadventures that they bring along with them. Will their love keep them afloat or more complex?





	1. With Regards To Barbara Eden

It was late in the evening when Lincoln heard the house phone rang from downstairs. It was one of those old antique phones that presumably belonged to his grandparents before the era of cell phones. That very antique phone was centered in the living room of the house. He often questioned his father on why do they still have a house phone. His mother would reply, "Because my mother still doesn't believe in handheld devices. Causes us cancer." Lincoln had a follow up question, which he hoped from his father he would get a straightforward answer. "How come we live in such a big house, but only one phone?" His father barely blinked when responding, "Ask your mother, Lincoln old boy. Papa Bear is kind of busy with the sports page." Before returning a rebuttal to his mother, she pushed him along with his lunch and was sent off to school.

He didn't know why that particular memory came to him. Maybe it was a ploy or a device to get a story started, he thought. He often questioned his mind and the direction he was going. Like if he was going to get up and answer the phone. At this point of time, Lincoln was sort of busy tending to some needs on his own.

His older sister, Leni, was an avid fan of television classics from the 60s to the 80s. One afternoon, after a favor of Leni to clean her closet for a few dollars, he stumbled upon a video collection.

' _I Dream of Jeannie.'_ The white-haired child read aloud, holding the dusted video cover.

'It's quite a classic,' respond Leni as she was filing her nails. 'Comedy, adventure, love.' She turned over on the bed. 'Plenty of romance. God, Barbara Eden looked so beautiful in her gown. Larry Hagman.' She paused, gripping the covers. 'Don't get me started on that hulk of sculpted flesh.'

Lincoln felt awkward as the elder Loud was drooling from her mouth. He couldn't help but to notice that she was shifting her body in the lower pelvic region. 'Uh, sis. Should I take my leave?'

Leni didn't object. She thanked Lincoln for cleaning her closet and told him to close the door behind him. Lincoln shut the door. It wasn't long when he heard The Statler Brothers playing. Lincoln and those of age who were aware of "alone time," understood when she played "Flowers on the Wall," she shouldn't be disturbed. For at least twenty, twenty-five minutes. Thirty-five if she had an off week. He made his awkward return to his bedroom, still gripping the  _I Dream of Jeannie_ video in his hand.

Quite a blessing that he still have his old VHS that he got as a hand-me down from his father. It was going to belong to a thrift store or to the dump, but Lincoln managed to save it from its demise. He took it from under his bed and properly placed it above his DVD player. He had some spare time and he knew he wasn't going to be bothered. So, he put on the video and sat on his bed.

_I Dream of Jeannie_ and Barbara Eden gave him fantasy-filled thoughts that fueled his entire weekend. He didn't want to think of the details that happened in those two short days. The results were change of bedsheets and blankets, cramped hands, and plenty of water to restore his lost electrolytes.

Hungry was also a contributing factor. Then yet again, the white-haired child love to eat.

Now, that particular weekend came and went. There were other weekends as well, but he knew he was going to have an uninterrupted day of consuming his brain, his heart, his soul, and his dick on Barbara Eden, he played one of the biggest games any teenager would play.

That evening, he returned home from school feeling ill. His mother came to his sickening aid. The moment his mother touched him, he had ran to the bathroom to relieve his sickness. His family was met with the putrid sounds of vomiting, retching, and crying. His mother and Leni came to him, helped him to his bed. His mother helped him with his clothes and Leni directed Luna to make the soup that he enjoyed so much when he was ill.

The same night, the family was going to a charity benefit for his father's company. His mother didn't want to leave Lincoln's sight. However, Lincoln pulled to his mother. 'Don't let me stop you from having fun. It's steak and shrimp, Mom. When is the next time we are going to get that for free without being chased by the police?'

She closed her eyes, agreeing to the trust of her son. Or, maybe she was agreeing about the next opportunity could afford that kind of luxury. Between the both of them, Rita and Lynn earned enough as a first year school teacher working in the inner city. Then, adding eleven children in the fray? Don't forget that the couple had to take care of themselves. She gave him a warm kiss on the cheek before their departure. His soup was on the nightstand by his bed. Luna gave him the remote to his television. They all said goodbye before heading off to the charity function.

Lincoln coughed in agony for a few minutes. He reached the window, bidding them farewell as they went off to the charity benefit. They left the driveway and Lincoln went from cry to snorting to laughing. He bit his lip, laughing in a fetal position of the Academy Award nominated, or better yet Razzie Award attempt of faking sick.

The charity benefit was over an hour away from Royal Woods. He calculated the time of his father's slow driving, traffic, and the length of the benefit, he knew that he was going to have at least five hours of alone time with his dick and Barbara Eden.

He jumped from the bed and he got his  _supplies_ for tonight. A personal care package that he had saved for tonight: four bottles of sports energy drink (for electrolytes), an orange sock (to cover his messes), spare change of underwear (he didn't need any nosy or prying eyes until he felt it was good enough to dump in the wash), and a bottle of lubricant (lotion was too slick, so petroleum jelly was his best option).

He didn't feel to lock the door for he knew he would finish way before their returned. He even added an additional thirty minutes if they were to stop for ice cream. Knowing for Lana, Lola, and Luan's appetite, he would count of them for their time delay.

The lights were off, just the glowing of the television announcing itself to the white-haired child. Once hearing the theme song, he was geared up and ready to go.

It was something about Barbara Eden and the role that she played in the series. Something about playing the role of a ditsy blonde, wanting to be an idiot, falling into the arms of the astronaut and military men in uniform. They fell like putty, all over her hands. She called them master and the men would drop to their needs. Lincoln's thoughts drifted from her role in the show to the alluring costume she was wearing. Lincoln applied his lubricant on his dick, rubbing it until it was firm enough for his dick. His sock was on standby until he was on the verge of climax. He had a sigh as he made his hand return to his son and tend to his needs.

He gripped on the phallus, ensuring that an erection was to be stirred. While multitasking, Lincoln turned his eyes to her costume. Although the uniform wasn't see through, but it certainly didn't make it any less inviting.

His blood vessels were awakening, making Lincoln excited as he wanted his dick to accept the softness of its hand as they were responsible for tending their needs. Lincoln heard Jeannie said master and that was making him more aroused.

However, here was where the moments change for the white-haired child. He often pictured if Jeannie played the role of Master. His job was to please her in any way. Not in a sense of domination in which she was to insult, to belittle, or to ridicule him. It wasn't like that. The idea of a woman dominating him in a sexual way turned him on.

He imagined his hand to be the tightening, enveloped folds of Barbara Eden's pussy as he stroked faster to make himself cum.

The phone was ringing again, but he wasn't going to answer. If there was something of an emergency, then they would have to contact his cell phone. It was very unfortunate that his cell phone was on mute. He declined calls for the time being.

Nothing was going to interrupt this night.

"Yes, Master Jeannie," he said aloud, but at a softer volume. Although he was alone, he still didn't want to take the chance of being caught. His dick was leaking his tears, crying out to his hands as it too begged for Lincoln's hand pussy. His hand pussy couldn't agree anymore as it accepted his little son's request. "Mistress," he purred. "Mistress, mistress, mistress. Make me do the things you want me to do. You have three wishes to give me? I want to eat you out in the best way possible, I want to serve you and your body as the temple; never to be poisoned or trampled by outsiders; and three more wishes because you won't allow me to ever leave you."

He gripped his shaft tighter. He edged a bit, but calm down. He wanted the rush. So close to release, but denying himself from full and complete closure.

"No, no, Lincoln," he said to himself in a feminine voice. "You must understand that I am in charge of your release."

"Yes, mistress," he responded to himself. "I love you, mistress."

"Love me when you release inside," he said in his feminine voice. "The moment you release, then you will hear the words you crave from me." He gripped his dick tighter. "Because I want to say those words, too."

"I am close, Mistress," he cried out loudly. "I am close, Mistress. I wanna cum. I wanna cum."

"Then do it, Lincoln," he said in his feminine voice. "Come for your mistress."

"I am cumming!"

"I love you, Lincoln!"

Lincoln grabbed his sock in time as the jet of semen released onto the orange fabric. He jerked his hips as he continued stroking his dick until nothing else spurted. He ebbed in the afterglow, feeling the sensation of pleasure that he craved.

Saving himself for Barbara Eden and withholding his masturbation for two weeks was worth this night.

A bottle of his sport drink was called for his celebration of his first release. He reached for the drink that was sitting on the floor. As he reached for it, his eyes spotted a pair of high heel shoes right in front of him.

He looked to the floor. He saw the glowing glare of the television, followed by the drop of a purse. He looked up to the surprise of his mother standing right in front of him. Her eyes went from his penis to the television screen. She saw Barbara Eden or Jeannie doing a quirky dance. She then return to his now flaccid penis. He quickly reached for his pajamas that was sitting beside his bed.

"Mom," he said loudly. He watched as his mother was staring at him. Her face didn't display anger. She didn't look happy. Her face was something he couldn't quite description at this particular juncture.

She reached over to the floor to pick up her purse. She came to his direction. She pressed forward. At first, he thought he was going to face corporal punishment. However, she pressed her forehead onto his forehead. She kept it on him for a few moments.

All the while, Lincoln became reddened when smelling the natural oils of honeydew, something that his mother purchased during her travels in the Middle East. He inhaled her scents, more in fear than out of excitement. She released her hold from Lincoln.

"It seems to me that you are going to be fine," she said calmly. "I think you will be fine for tomorrow." She turned off his television. "Get some rest, sweetheart." Lincoln's eyes followed his mother as she came to his door.

"We will talk about this in the morning."

She closed the door, leaving Lincoln with a strong sense of embarrassment. He reached to his phone and saw that his mother had made several attempts to get to him. He cursed under his breath for not answering the phone. He turned over to his side, thinking of the possibilities of what tomorrow was going to bring.


	2. The Basement of Seclusion (With Regards to Barbara Eden, Part II)

Lincoln was drawing sketches based off the characters from  _Devilman crybaby_ on the bus toward his home. He would have walked, but decided to get home immediately before his mother did. He was alone for his sisters were busy with other arrangements at their school, their jobs, and the like. Lily was in after school care and he knew his father would pick Lily after he finished work. It gave him a few sparse minutes of alone before his mother returned. Questions were in his head about last night's incident. That was the best way to call it, an incident. What more can he say? He faked sick to get off to Barbara Eden and was caught by his mother? How much did she saw? A little? A lot? Did she pay attention to his penis? Why was he masturbating? He stopped his overthinking, concluding that what he was doing was natural. His mother didn't have an attitude. His mother didn't make it a big deal unlike other mother that portrayed angry, neurotic parents on television. His mother was more laidback conventional type of mother; giving their child the benefit of a doubt.

Although he didn't give his mother a chance for an explanation. He woke up a few minutes before the others. He took a quick shower, grabbed a breakfast pastry, and hopped off to school. He didn't have much interaction with his sisters for he wasn't sure if they were wondering about last night. Speaking of which, he wondered how did his mother came home?

He stopped his overthinking once more. The ink was bleeding excessively on his Akira character. Granted he was considered the Devilman, it suited him. However, he didn't want omens. He just wanted resolution; or at least for the commotion of he and his mother to calm down. Why the fuss, he thought again. He stopped. His bus was stopping at his corner.

The biggest mystery of his current debacle was if his mother was home. His parents were both working people, but only shared one vehicle. His father's lunch break included picking up his wife and taking her home from her job. Now, he had to play the guessing game if his mother was home or not. The question was to be solved for his hand was on the knob.

Each tilt on the knob made the back of Lincoln's hair stand. A bolt of energy surge from his brain to his spine, leaving a cool tingling sensation of nervousness. He knew no matter what decision he made, he couldn't run from it forever. As sweat accumulated on his hand, he opened the door.

He gasped, better yet yelped upon entry. It was quiet. Nothing was going on. The living room was empty. No television running. The kitchen looked empty. All of the lights were off. He closed the door, feeling and hearing the echo ring in the house. He felt relief. He was alone for the moment. He sighed loudly, thanking God of his alone time.

As he walked up to his stairs, he really didn't have much of a plan to speak of. Just go to his room and reside until bed. He kept spare food in his mini fridge and had a huge supply of comic books and manga to keep him occupied. Of course there was Barbara Eden, but his genie had to reside in her video cassette until this incident blew over.

He opened the door to his room. He smiled as he felt the freedom. A little freedom, but no mother. The sun shined brightly on his bed, giving it warmth as he landed on it. No homework for the evening, which meant a comic filled night. He just recently purchased the  _Fantastic Fable_ comic and wanted to consume into that for inspiration of his upcoming one-shot he planned.

He sat up, preparing to reach for that comic until he felt something crinkling on his butt. It was a small white envelope. It didn't leave a name or the sender. It was blank. He didn't recall leaving anything of a letter on his bed or an envelope. Not thinking nothing of it, he reached for the letter. He used his finger to tear through the seal. He reached for the paper that was within. It left a scent, reminding him of honeydew. He put his nose to paper. He knew that scent. For that was the very scent that belonged to his mother. She wore that scent last night when she caught him.

"Why would she leave me a letter," he questioned aloud. His worst fear was a strongly-worded letter for missing their talk. He wouldn't know unless he read it. He had a few minutes to kill. He might as well prepare for his wake.

_Dear Lincoln,_

_If you are reading this letter, I am glad that you were able to open it. I really don't know what to say as I am writing this, but it is about what happened last night. Lincoln, it is okay if you want alone time to take care of yourself. Being a teenage boy can be difficult. Especially when you are living in a house full of women. I know it might be difficult to find alone and I honestly don't blame you for what happened last night._

_But, I don't condone for your lying to me about your sickness. I would have liked if you have told the truth or simply said, "I don't want to go." Don't ever do me like that again, Lincoln. That worries me. You are my baby boy and I don't like when you have to cry wolf. If you are that uncomfortable about tending to your needs, then say something to me. I am your mother. A mother knows when a child feel urges. You are growing up and will experience great things. At the same time, encounters from the opposite sex._

_On separate note, you have great taste on using Barbara Eden as your material. I hope you didn't rub your lamp too harshly. I am sorry. A joke? Really, Rita? I couldn't resist. Anyway, feel free to tell me anything, Lincoln. You are my only son and I love you. More than anything in this world._

_Your Mom,_

_Rita._

He felt relieved, a burden lifted from his sturdy shoulders. His mother was actually okay with last night. He wasn't getting any punishment. And judging by the letter, she wasn't going to discuss it with his father. Well, he thought that was the intention. He couldn't imagine hearing from his father point of view.

He lied back on the bed, allowing the sun to give him some warmth. He felt another paper under his pillow. He raised his eyebrow. He reached for the paper. It was folded in a square. He opened it.

_Go to the basement as soon as you finished reading this letter. There is something I want you to see._

It was from his mother. Her handwriting from the previous letter confirmed it. What plans did his mother have for the white-haired child? Many things ran across his mind. Was that letter a prompt to bring him alone to face punishment? An intervention? He shook those thoughts, explaining that he was going to be fine. He stepped from the bed and went to the door. As he took each step, he felt a little sense of fear.

_What does my mother have for me to see?_

_I should relax. It's my mother. She wouldn't do anything crazy._

_Ok, ok. Chill, LIncoln. Maybe she has something for me to calm my nerves._

He returned to the living room. He maintained his composure as he went to the basement door. He took another breath. What was going to happen as he opened that door? He wouldn't know, but he had to find out.

He opened the basement door. It was dark in the stairwell. However, he heard soft country pop coming from down there.

"Hello," said Lincoln. He wanted to see if anyone was there.

"I am here, Lincoln." He was stunned. The feeling from earlier returned as the cooling sensation returned to his spine. That was the voice of his mother. "Come down. I have something we need to discuss."

"Mom," asked Lincoln nervously. "Is this for what happened earlier?"

"Yes, it is," replied Rita absolutely. "Come down so we can talk."

Her voice displayed sternness. That worried the white-haired child.

"Hurry, Lincoln. We don't have much time before they get here."

"Ok, Mom."

He whispered a prayer as he edged towards the floor of the basement; knowing that his mother was within inches of him. What things was his mother going to discuss?

Only the Lord knows, he thought as stress began building in his mind.


	3. The Ritacoin Monologues (Part I)

_**Ladies and gentlemen, the Lincoln Monologues….** _

In the dictionary, complex has different meanings. One meaning is consisting of many different and connected parts. Mathematically, it is a group of similar buildings or facilities on the same site. Scientifically, it means to make (an atom or compound) form a complex with another. Psychologically, it means a related group of emotionally significant ideas that are completely or partly repressed and that cause psychic conflict leading to abnormal mental states or behavior.

"The sun is up, my love. And I think we need to get up as well."

Unless you are my mother, Rita.

Complex has a different meaning under being a Loud. Like when your father is out of town on business and she gets set up for our skinship with one another. Or like when we spoon while she wears her lingerie that for my father's eyes only, but uses it with me.

"Sweetie, what are you in the mood for? Since the girls are at their Aunt Ruth's, we can have breakfast in bed or...have a taste of us instead. Hehe! I mean, I still haven't got enough of your milk from last evening."

Anybody outside of this household would find this...odd. Most of you who are reading are probably questioning my reasoning, my calmness, and my sanity.

"Sweetie, I have decided that we are going to make a huge breakfast. A breakfast fit for a king, for my king."

I am wearing nothing but my boxers, still being cuddled to my mother into her bosom. She gives me tender kisses to my neck, trailing her nose down to my shoulder blade. Feeling her warmth is comfortable, quite trusting if you ask me. But, what can I say? This is how my mother operates with me when my father is away on business.

Once again, why am I so calm? I have quite got used to this since we have begun our relationship in a fortnight. No, I am not talking about the video game. Still haven't finished it yet. Seriously, school, manga writing, my mother, spending time with my sisters can be quite a handful. Gratefully, it is Sunday, so I have the entire day to do whatever I want with my mother.

So, she wants to make a huge breakfast. So, read what is going to happen next.

"Ok, Mom," I tell her. "I am grateful to have a meal. You make the greatest pancakes ever."

She flicks my nose. "Only for my sweet." She nibbles my nose. "But, this sweetness is sweeter than any pancake." She goes for my lips. I close my eyes as I once more taste the familiar flavor of my mother. Her kisses are very tender, contrasting to the kisses I had of Ronnie Anne, Sam, Tabby, and Luna. Don't tell my mother about the others. Don't need Yuno or Ayano of a mother appearing from the woodworks and make another volume of  _When They Cry_ or  _Higurashi_. Seriously!

As I get up from bed, she pulls me back into her web. Like a spider who has her prey. Better yet, like a mother to her child.

"Where are you going," she shouts playfully, rubbing my back and tickling my neck with the other.

Giggling, I respond, "Aren't we going to get breakfast?"

She kisses the nape of my neck. "Do we have to leave the bedroom, sweetness?"

"If you don't want to starve," I playfully respond to her. "Please, you get really testy if you don't eat."

She purses her lips before folding her arms. "I don't want to leave. It is too comfy and you are too adorable."

As much as I enjoy her loving, I am very hungry….

"Mom, what are you doing?" My mother gets on top of me. She gives a devilish grin. "What do you think, love? Getting my daily dose of vitamins and minerals." immediately, I feel the cool breeze of my boxers being pulled down. My dick becomes exposed in front of my mother.

"Your banana looks quite rich, fresh, and ripe," she purrs. She uses her finger to poke at the phallus. With light scrapes, she circles the phallus. I am flushed, trying not to display my true feelings. She sees this. "Linky, sweetie. Mother knows you. I know that wait...wait..wait...do I see a few of your juices." She goes into a sing-song. "Good morning! Now, I can get a fresh squeeze."

She is slow, laying her tongue on the head. She wants more pressure on the phallus until she tastes the precum from my dick. She moans as she licks around the area. With her free hand, she caresses my balls. I grab the pillow to muffle my moans.

She pushes forward. My dick is entering into her throat. She thrust at a moderate pace. Not enough to make me climax, but for assurance that I am feeling pleasurable. She looks at me as I revel in the pleasure. She is happy. She is enjoying every moment of me and is making sure I am feeling good. At the same time, it is the least she could do after the times of having sex with me without my permission.

That is a bridge we will discuss and cross later.

"Mom, this is feeling good," I tell her as I remove the pillow. "Mom, I am getting close. I am getting close." Those words are enough to make her go faster. I grip the cover as I know I am going to come in her mouth.

She accepts my milk as I release it inside of her. At each spurt, she takes my sperm. I moan each time I release. I continue until there is nothing left.

"Hmm," she grins as she rubs her stomach. "A full day supply of vitamin D. Mommy feels satisfied." She sticks out her tongue. "Want a taste."

I shake my head in disagreement. "I can't accept. But, I am still in mood for a grilled cheese with jelly sandwich."

She bites her finger alluringly. "Oh, sweetie, if that is what you want." She uses her hand to stroke my dick. "I am going to make you that sandwich. Open the drawer to get the flavored lube. I think it has grape flavor, I think."

_**So, in recap, ladies and gentlemen. In the dictionary, complex has different meanings. One meaning is consisting of many different and connected parts. Mathematically, it is a group of similar buildings or facilities on the same site. Scientifically, it means to make (an atom or compound) form a complex with another. Psychologically, it means a related group of emotionally significant ideas that are completely or partly repressed and that cause psychic conflict leading to abnormal mental states or behavior.** _

_**Unless you are my mother, then complex has a whole different meaning. This is my conclusion on the Lincoln Monologues. Until next time, ladies and gentlemen.** _

"Lincoln, who are you talking to? No matter, time to make our sandwich."


	4. The Ritacoin Monologues (Part II)

_**Ladies and gentleman, another chapter of the Lincoln monologues….** _

Hey, guys! It has been a while since I have last spoken with you guys. Crazy, right? Like what kind of person would just abandon a story for something better? Just because certain stories obtain better views doesn't mean one abandons it. I need to contact my manager! Nah, I am kidding. Well, Lincoln Loud, here. I am finally back after this long hiatus. I didn't think writing a blog would make things interesting. I mean it beats writing stories to Penthouse or Playboy. Especially when I am writing monologues that pertain to the very person I came out of. And the very person I have the privilege of returning back to the warm confines of my former domicile. You know, it feels funny, bathing in the womb for nine months then going back in another way.

Now, I digress.

The coffeehouse is where I am presently located for the time being. Homework needs to be finished. Pout! Pout! Woes to the inventor of assignments. Yet again, if I want to get my big reward for Christmas, then, therefore, I need to listen to my parents' orders.

More for my mother actually.

The coffeehouse gets kind of nippy in here. I guess they had only paid half of the electric bill. For I am getting air instead of heat. No matter. My mother made me a comforter that I bring with me. I have it around my lap right now. It was made with love. Every stitch, every fiber. Every touch contains the love of my mother. Yet again, we have made love more than once on this comforter. Am I naughty? Hopefully, the smell of coffee beans and French bread can cover the scent.

I know. Why don't we wash it? I would but Mother doesn't. She wants the essence of our love to embellish the fabric for many years to come. Thank God that she is on the pill for I am not ready for a child. Heck, I am not ready to be the middle child of twelve. And God knows if that child would become the likeness of her mother.

Now I digress.

My homework isn't hard. Just think of the most influential person. Rather domestic, international, musician, political figure, blah, blah, blah. Point is, homework. Paper. Two pages. Submit. Get my grade of a B and done. What can I say? Mom has kept me up most of the night and my grades are starting to slip.

And this homework is due tomorrow. And I had like three, four, five days to work on this? Each night this week, my father hasn't been at home. He is out of town on business. So, it doesn't take a wild guess on where my nights were being spent.

This comforter is such comfort. I am glad to have this on me. I am positioned at the corner of the coffeehouse. Gratefully, I am in a booth. Most of the others are positioned and cushioned at the center, many gather to obtain warmth from the gas furnace. Some call me a fool as I am under the air.

However, one must not judge for they don't know the circumstance. In other words, one shouldn't judge a table if they haven't seen their valley.

"Mom, stop."

Giggles are coming from under the table. Le sigh! The comforter, the warmth. Well, Mother didn't like it that we were separated. Dad is back tomorrow. I have tried to explain but she didn't want to hear it. So, take a wild guess on who is under the comforter.

"Sorry, baby," she tells me gingerly. "I can't help it. You taste so good. I want more of you."

I put my finger at my lips. We have to be quiet. "Shh! Mom, I don't want us to get in trouble."

She licks her lips, zipping her lips. "Don't worry. I won't make  _too_ much noise." She covers the comforter and proceeded down to my hard shaft. She massages my balls, gently like she was being delicate on sourdough bread. I bite into my lip to keep myself from moaning. Hell, it is becoming difficult as I am focusing on doing this assignment and writing this monologue.

She places her tongue under my testicle. Her wettest muscle she ingests. She knows how I like it. She believes that it makes my milk thicker. She said that she read it in a magazine somewhere. Unsure but I like it.

I hiss loudly. No one notices.

Nevermind it. I love it when she makes me feel good.

This is the first time we have done something this adventurous. The place is packed, so no one noticed that I had actually come alone.

She was already here when I…. I feel her teeth tugging under my balls. I wince but the pain is tolerable. I just don't expect her to be this frisky. We have engaged in sex every day. I don't know why she is like this? Yet again, let me think. Let me think.

I raise the cover. She pauses, removing my balls from her mouth. "Mom, you are a bit feistier than usual. What's the problem?"

She turns away, blushing like a shy kitten. I give her a pleasant smile. The kind of smile telling her that everything is okay.

"Well, we won't be able to do much since your father will be back tomorrow," she tells me worriedly. "And I won't be sure how long we can do anything before he leaves again."

I try not to think about those options. I try to live in the now and focus on tomorrow another time. I grab my hand and brush her forehead. "Don't worry about that, Mom. You know you are the one for me." She kisses my thigh, blushing by my contact. She coos and releases a pleasant smile. "I love you, Linky."

"I love you, too, Mom," I reply to her. "More than anything in this world."

"And then some," she says as she covers the comforter.

I take a break from my homework. On the surface, I browse on my computer as she proceeds on my penis. Thank God a live band is beginning to play. The pleasant noises of a Roy Ayers band should cover the bobbing noise and the slobbing noises she is doing.

I try typing, browsing. But her mouth is like a vacuum, wanting to collect any seeds that belong to her. Her seeds belong to her and she will be sure that no other woman could have them. Although she wasn't suspicious about my sisters. I believe that anyone is capable of going to the other side.

If she did, then she knew that her progeny could follow.

I give her the trust that I don't want anyone else. Still, she believes that I am too trusting.

I mutter a bit as drool collected at the corner of my mouth. My mind spirals, knowing that I am caught in the web of my wettest muscle. She is better than any woman I have experienced.

I lie. She is the only one that I have experienced the pleasure I am going through.

"Mom, I am getting close," I whisper to her.

"Let it out," she mumbled to me. "Let out all of that thick milk."

I silently moan the name of my mother's Christian name as I release what properly belongs to her. I spurt a few more times. Each spurt, she consumes, tightening her lips around my cock. She continues to suck until my orgasm ceases. She kisses my thigh, signaling that she is finished.

"Happy Studying," she tells me. I feel the comforter getting lighter as she dives away into the swarming crowd. I quickly button my pants as I return to finishing my paper.

The most influential person to you: My Mother, obviously!

So another moment ends as my mother thinks of other ways to heighten our pleasure. So, I bid you guys farewell. Hopefully, it won't be another few months. Taking hints to the guy behind this.

_**This is my conclusion on the Lincoln Monologues. Until next time, ladies and gentlemen.** _


End file.
